When My Sister Became a Girl
by Livily
Summary: Edmund reflects on Susan and her new, girly mannerisms.
1. The First Time

**AN: I came up with this idea last night when I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom. I was looking at all of my stuff spread out of the counter, and began to feel sorry for my poor brother. And then I started wondering WHEN I had started using so much stuff to get ready in the morning and when I had taken such an interest in my clothes and such. So here we have it, Edmund's take on Susan's growing up. The little brother surveying the elder sister. **

**I don't own any of these characters or places, though I do wish I owned my own bathroom. **

**Chapter One: The First Time**

I remember the first suitor that inquired after Susan. I think Peter and I were in shock for several days. Our sister, Susan, was being sought after _romantically? _Why, it was positively astounding, and if I may be frank, it frazzled me more than I'd like to admit. 

Don't get me wrong, I've always been _aware_ that Susan's a girl—Lucy too, for that matter—but as far as I've ever been concerned, we could have been the four Son's of Adam. But then I suppose the Prophesy wouldn't have worked out, and who knows how things would be now? 

Anyhow, the way they assert themselves, sometimes it's hard to remember that my sisters are girls. Before all of _this, _Susan was always demanding the same rights and privileges that Peter and I enjoy, and of course she's been granted them. After all, Peter and I do treat the girls equally—well, at least I do. Peter's too much of an over-protective prat to ever give up his rule that the girls don't join us in battle; a rule which Lucy absolutely despises, and for a time, Susan did too. 

Not only does Susan refuse to even approach a battlefield, but now her Ladyship can barely stand to hear of them. Whenever Peter or I try to tell something of a particularly gory battle, Susan claps her hands over her ears and refuses to hear another word. This is absolutely silly, though, for beheading a werewolf and accidentally staining one's tunic in its blood isn't _that _awful. Lucy manages to get through it without childish outbursts, but I suppose she's rather used to it, using her cordial like she does. But I digress. 

Unfortunately, Susan's newly enhanced sense of propriety extends to her archery and swimming. This is just such a shame, though, for Susan is truly skilled in both. Of course she swims when she thinks no one is about, but refuses to do so in competitions, claiming it is inappropriate for a lady to show that much skin. I think sometimes she forgets we're the only humans about, and the Animals and other Narnians don't care for that sort of thing. At least she hasn't given up her archery. She does refuse to join the ranks of the archers in battles; something that I know relieves Peter greatly. Although I would never say so, I'm rather disappointed that Susan's stopped joining us. I do miss the rather home-ish touches she added to our camps, but I would never tell Peter that, or Susan for that matter. She'd never get her nose out of the clouds. 

I must give my sister some credit, though, for I know she would use her bow to defend herself or any one of us if the occasion called for it, and she does manage to best every one of her competitors. I suppose she has truly taken to heart her title, the Gentle. But then again, all of us have made great efforts to live up to the names given by Aslan. 

The first signs of Susan's newfound girlishness appeared in approximately the second year of our reign. I began to notice it when Susan's adoration for dresses and parties became more prominent—both of which I cannot stand. Obviously, she was no longer acting like a Pevensie brother. As Lucy bluntly informed me the night I mentioned it to her, "Susan _is _a girl." Of course, she then went on to remind me that she was also a girl and that I wasn't to forget it. She punctuated this comment by twirling her skirts around and giggling, before tackling me to the ground. I think that the latter action sort of undid her original point. Despite the tackle, I got the point that, yes, my sisters were indeed girls, but still found myself amazed at Susan's progressive interest in her gowns and long, black hair. While I can tolerate the gowns, I must admit that Susan's hair is positively annoying, especially her lady's maid is somehow absent and yours truly is roped into brushing the tangled mass one-hundred times. I'd rather fight an ogre any day. 

Besides her looks, though, we all quickly noticed how dignified she acted. It was more than avoiding swimming, archery, and battles (all of which would mess up those shiny locks that nearly paralyzed my hand), but Susan actually seemed to think that we should act and speak with the same elegance and diplomacy we used with the public. I think we were all a bit taken back the first time she addressed Peter as "My liege," or when her reprimands took on a more queenly tone. "Smaller steps, Lucy" and "Edmund, do take smaller bites" were comments that we were used to from our mothering sister, and while her eyes still twinkled when she reprimanded us, I nearly choked the first time she said "Brother, would you do me the honor of chewing with thy mouth _closed._" What's worse is that I think Susan genuinely means these reprimands now, for she is most persistent. Either that or she just enjoys using the flowery language of the court. I believe it's a combination of both. 

While Peter manages to hide it, I think the most disappointing aspect of Susan's new girlishness is her general refusal to partake in our romps. I do understand that she and Peter are getting older, and as such have less interest in sliding down Cair's fabulously long banisters or crunching through newly fallen leaves, but Peter at least participates when he's got time. Sometimes we are graced with the presence of our care-free sister, but never for long. Now, Susan prefers to practice her dancing or paint some flower or another.

I _am _glad that she hasn't given up painting for a more "adult" hobby, but now she paints more flowers and fewer portraits. I haven't yet decided whether or not this is a blessing, for though her portrait of me _did _look like me, it is rather disconcerting to sit still for over an hour while your sister scrutinizes every aspect of your body. I'm not sure what was worse, the loss of feeling in my hands or the crick in my neck. 

I will admit, though, that Susan isn't a total bore. She does know how to have fun when the occasion calls for it, and I think she still secretly enjoys participating in some of our more unruly and boyish activities, although she'd never admit it to anyone. Unfortunately, this ability to let loose and relax does not extend to practical jokes. According to Susan, the occasion _never_ calls for it. She was especially displeased the time Lucy and I hid all of her splendid new gowns and replaced them with…. well, nothing. Nor was she delighted by the dumb frog that greeted her one morning on her pillow. In light of all of these changes, I'd say it's safe to say that Susan's screeches have become much more high pitched, and somehow more terrifying. I'm not quite sure how she does it. 

My girly sister also baffles and amazes me when dealing with the countless suitors that now grace our very lucky throne room each day. Despite the atrocity of many of them, Susan generally giggles and flirts, all the while sending them firmly home with the ludicrous notion that perhaps someday she'll consider their awful poetry and flagrant bribery. It's absolutely absurd how she toys with these men. I've suggested several times that we just post some sort of sign saying that no's the answer so please go home, but Peter says that Susan knows what she's doing, and we must allow her some fun. I'm not quite sure what the fun is in telling dozens of pompous men the same thing day after day, but Susan refuses to challenge any of them to an archery match (another one of my more brilliant suggestions), and asks that I please just mind my own business. Unfortunately there's plenty of that for me to tend to (I try to avoid that massive stack of paperwork on my desk), so I really have no comeback. At least there is a small comfort in knowing that Susan will never allow herself to be bought like one of her precious gowns, so I suppose I can allow her some "fun" for the time being. 

Despite the occasionally annoying new Susan, I must admit that a Narnian girl is loads better than a flighty English girl, so at least Susan became a girl here. At any rate, Susan still has a somewhat firm grasp on what fun is (I can't possibly call playing the same game with different but similar men fun), and from what I remember of English girls, they had no idea how to have a truly good time. In addition, the dresses here are much more comfortable for the girls, so they can do that much more. At least, that's what Susan and Lucy tell me. It's not like I'd ever try one of their dresses on! 

I can put up with my girly sister so long as she still enjoys our company. The moment she crowns herself Miss High and Mighty is the moment she takes a step too far. I don't think that this family, or the country for that matter, can sanely handle two "High" monarchs. That's Peter's job. As much as I love my elder sister, I think that if that ever happened, Lucy and I would have to take an extended leave of absence, although as Peter cheerily informed me the other day, my romping days with Lucy are nearly over too. Of course, Lucy overheard him and proceeded to pummel him with her small fists, claiming that she'd never be too old to play with me, and that if Peter thought that he was going to be able to keep her out of battles when she got older, he had another thing coming. I must admit, I'm very thankful for my youngest sister. I don't think I could handle two ladies traipsing around Cair. Susan is certainly enough. 

AN: I hope that you enjoyed this short story and the characters were canon. I had a tough time doing Edmund's point of view to portray Susan. I'm not sure how well I got the point across, but I kind of wanted to show what Susan growing up even more so and embracing some more girly activities. I'm thinking of writing another chapter, but this time showing Susan growing up in England and the contrast. Let me know what you think!

Oh, and a side note about my novel type story, The Golden Age, I've hit a roadblock and think that it's officially going on hiatus, so sorry! 

Please Review!!


	2. Not Again

**Chapter two deals with Susan growing up in England. It's got a little less humor and seems a littler more serious than the first chapter, but then I think that after Narnia they'd all be more serious and less jovial. This portion also subtly deals with how the other three children coped with being back, although Susan is definitely the main focus. **

**Chapter Two: Not Again**

We were so horrified when Susan became a girl in Narnia, though I suppose _horrified_ isn't the correct choice of words. Peter was horrified; Lucy and I were just amused—first by Susan's new frilliness, and later by Peter's reaction. Eventually, though, we all got over it. After all, the Narnian Susan still knew how to truly enjoy herself—sort of. I don't know what sort of person delights in continually waking her brother before the sun has risen even though she is quite aware that he is _not _a morning person, but at least she had a sense of humor. I guess.

Despite her public aloofness, I would catch Susan having a pillow fight with Lucy or chasing after Peter and whatever object of hers he took. And in Narnia, Su and I would talk. I think it was those talks that convinced me she was still our Susan. Peter and Lucy have always been the jovial, bright two, both in appearance and spirit, while Susan and I have always been quieter and more reserved. Or at least I am now, after my first…er… experience in Narnia.

In Narnia, the four of us went through so much. There was an abundance of good times and happiness, yet we still had our rifts, disagreements, and annoyances. As much as I complained to Lucy when Peter and I would fall out, or Susan would coddle me, I would give anything for those times, and I know Lucy and Peter feel the same.

Even after returning to England, Susan was still the perfect lady we had become accustomed to. She fussed over our appearances and used courtly manners in public. It was terribly embarrassing the first time one of my mates caught her straightening my collar. I had gotten so used to it in Narnia that I didn't think twice of it in England: I haven't let her near my collar since. I could tell she mourned the loss of her wonderful gowns, but then again, we all missed our comfortable, Narnian clothing. All the same, she still cared a great deal about her scratchy cotton blouses and heavy skirts that showed her ankles. I know how much _that_ irritated the girls when we first returned—probably just as much as the lack of swords annoyed me and Peter.

That first year back in England we sought comfort in each other, contentedly reverting back to our old mannerisms and speech when alone. When we returned to Narnia to help Caspian, I knew we were all silently hoping that perhaps we could stay and grow up here. And I'm sure all of us entertained the thought of resuming our rule. A second Golden Age for Narnia, perhaps? Maybe then Susan would have stayed a true Narnian. Yet like many dreams, this one died hard, and we were returned to our own, grimy world. That's when we began to lose Susan.

As time passed, we began to lapse into old habits and friendships, moving on, while still remembering. It was quite a joke the first time we caught Lucy sucking her thumb again. Still, none of us were happy to be dealing with a second, unnecessary dose of growing pains.

Lucy threw herself into her fairytales and short stories. The fairytales she reads are lovely, though I can't help but think a little unrealistic. Susan scoffs at them all together, telling Lucy that someday she's going to have to give up her childish behavior and move on. Lucy's stories, though, are amazing. She's decided that she's going to document all of our adventures so that we always remember them, and I do love reading the things she's remembered that no one else has. Besides that, she taken to pleading with me every night to continue her lessons on swordplay (we found two marvelous sticks in the backyard). She's gotten rather good, and I know she's starting to begrudge me for never teaching her properly in Narnia. I have no problem teaching her here: there aren't any battles for her to be killed in.

Peter has become completely involved in his school's rugby team, and I know that he loves creating strategies and the adrenaline that comes with rushing down the field. Rather than taking an early-morning ride on the beach like he used to, he runs around our block several times and then wakes me up to spar. I can't figure out why _I _have to be the one to do swordplay with both Lucy and Peter. It's not that I don't love it, but honestly, 5:00 in the morning is a tad early. Why can't they practice with each other?

As for me, I've engrossed myself in my studies. I hope to someday become a judge like I was in Narnia. I think it's the about closest thing I can get to being 'the Just' again. Poor Peter's got an even tougher time of it. I'll never forget his face that first time Mum told him it was past his bedtime, and he ought to be getting some sleep. Of course, Mum had no idea that Peter the Magnificent, High King of Narnia, would go to bed when he _pleased. _

It's Susan that's got us thrown for a loop. She's completely absorbed in her friends, a thought that makes me cringe. I vividly remember what my group of 'friends' got me into before we entered Narnia. I was not an enthusiast of the many balls and parties we attended during our rule, though I will admit I enjoyed some of them. Unfortunately, parties are all Susan is interested in—that and the boys who attend them.

My sister who refused to be courted by any of the hundreds of men who sought her hand has now decided that it is appropriate for her to 'befriend' the slobs who live in this wonderful world. I was appalled the first time a boy came to escort her to a party, and further dismayed when she had a _different _escort for the next one. I mean, if she must insist on indulging these baboons, is it too much to just pick _one? _Apparently so.

Nor is it enough for Susan to just wear her hair down or own one pair of shoes. Oh no. My new sister must own the latest fashions from Paris and style her hair like the Americans do. Her trip to America was not at all a good idea like Mum and Dad thought. Apparently Americans are very stylish, and Susan's greatest desire is to move there when she's old enough. So 

entranced was she by this "new world," as she called it, that she completely brushed off mine and Lucy's story of the _Dawn Treader _and Caspian. She simply told us to "stop playing games, dears," and not to "bother Peter with your silly stories. You know how busy he is studying for the exams."

That was when I realized how lost Susan was to us and how she had become one of those flighty English girls I had been so glad to avoid. That realization hurt nearly as much as the loss of Narnia. I found it so difficult to believe that Susan would rather attend frivolous parties and spend time with her shallow friends than remember a world that embodied purity and beauty: a world where we truly grew up.

Like the grown up Susan in Narnia, this Susan despises practical jokes, but she doesn't laugh at them several days later like my sister did. Rather she gives a glass-breaking shriek and huffs out of the room. If she's in a particularly good mood, we might be graced with a reprimand. I gave up pranking Susan shortly after our second return to England. I wonder if Susan knows what she's done to Lucy. I cannot possibly be expected to give up one of my favorite pastimes.

The Susan here also avoids swimming and archery completely. She quickly quit her archery lessons after falling in with her new group of friends, claiming that she was "more advanced than the teacher anyways." While I don't doubt this a bit, I have to wonder where she believes she got her skill with a bow if she thinks Narnia was just a little game we made up to pass the time. She never practices anymore, and reprimands Lucy, Peter, and I when she catches us sparring. After all, according to Susan, we don't live in the Middle Ages. Unfortunately, we don't live in Narnia either.

I suppose I was lying when I said she avoids swimming at all costs. Last summer she went to the public pool with her friends to show off her new bathing clothes, but she came home in an embarrassed huff. Apparently one of the boys had asked her about the long scar on her shoulder, and she couldn't remember where she got it. I'm not sure why this was so utterly embarrassing to her, but it was all the same. _I _remember where she got the scar, though, and I know Peter and Lucy do too. We were all terrified the day Susan was carried home from the Western Woods almost unconscious. Her horse told us that she had been attacked by one of the Witch's remaining allies: a lone wolf. That was before Peter and I began our crusade to completely expunge the Witch's allies from Narnia, though after our lovely encounter with the hag and Nikabrik, I don't suppose it ever will be. Not that Susan cares.

Although Susan doesn't swim or do archery anymore, she still paints when given the chance. I find it ironic that she has become so fascinated with painting landscapes, and that many of the landscapes she paints are places she claims to be from dreams. Of course I'm completely aware that the shining palace in the middle of the desert with flags around the city is not at all a dream, but rather the palace of the prince—or shall we say ass?—she nearly married. 

Unfortunately, now all of the men she courts are similar to Rabadash, or at least _I _think they are. At least in Narnia I could adequately terrify her beaus, now I'm just the annoying younger brother—something which bothers me to no end and for some reason amuses Peter.

The odd thing about the new Susan and her denial of Narnia is that I think she very vividly remembers the land we ruled for almost fifteen years. Her paintings prove that. Sometimes when she's with her friends I'll catch her gazing off into the distance, as if thinking of something important. She always shakes it off quickly, but a familiar gleam in her eyes is usually present for a minute after. I'm nearly positive that at these moments she's struck by a memory—a memory that she knows is more than a dream.

Peter has told me and Lucy that this is Susan's way of coping with the loss of Narnia. But that's Peter for you, always trying to be the kingly defender. What Peter doesn't know is that when he's away at the university, Lucy and I are granted the lovely privilege of dealing with Ms. Pevensie in her worst moods. These moods make me wonder what in Narnia Aslan was thinking when he gave her the title 'the Gentle.' More like 'the Moody' if you ask me.

Lucy seems to think that Peter's right and that Susan will come back to us someday and leave her girlish ways behind. Well, Lucy doesn't say "girlish ways," but I assume that's what she means. It's Susan's stubborn need to be prim and proper that started all of this. The rest of us are "coping," as Peter puts it, just fine.

Some days I can't help but blame her friends and beaus. Every time a new boy knocks on our door, it takes all of my willpower not to send him to the dungeons. That or just punch him in the face. I could, too. Peter's not usually home to stop me, though Lucy would probably give me an earful, and chances are Susan would never speak to me again.

The thing is, though, that Lucy doesn't have deal with Susan's twittery little friends giggling over her. Every time I enter the bloody room I feel like every eye is focused on my oh-so-muscular form. I'm two years younger than most of them for Pete's sake! And it is, indeed, for Peter's well-being that I put up with them. If I didn't let them giggle and wink, then Peter would be in for an awful awakening every time he came home. There would probably be twice as many girls waiting in our kitchen to say hello, something that makes him blush furiously every time. He never did have Susan's cool demeanor when dealing with suitors.

Actually though, Peter's homecomings are one of the rare times I see my old sister. She allows herself to loosen up in Peter's presence, though she still avoids the topic of Narnia. I suppose it's because he makes her feel safe, though I can't really abide by that. After all, it was _I _who got her out of Tashbaan. Not Peter. He was up in the North frolicking with the giants.

Anyhow, when it's just the four of us Susan seems to actually enjoy our company. Or at least she pretends to for Peter. I don't think she hates us or anything, I just think that she's been 

caught up in the whirlwind of growing up. Unfortunately, by doing so she has traded her dignified and queenly manner for an adulthood that fits with this world.

I hesitate to call Susan a lady anymore. Not just because she would bite my head off and tell me to stop playing games, but because she no longer deserves the title. We've all changed since returning from Narnia, but Peter, Lucy and I have not forsaken ourselves or Aslan. I know that Susan will come back to us one day. After all, once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen. That's got to be true, even here.

As painful as it is living in England, I'm glad Narnia happened, and I'm very thankful for my siblings, Susan included. Unfortunately, though, I cannot consider her Queen Susan the Gentle until she gives up this flighty, trivial life she seems to be so fond of. Susan will always be my sister, but until that time, her new title will have to be Susan Pevensie the Moody. I think it quite suits her.

**Let me know what you think. It kind of strayed a bit from the original topic, but I think it expresses the differences between Susan growing up here and growing up in Narnia. Let me know if there's anything I can do to make this better. Thanks. **

**I don't own any of these lovely characters of places. **


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